


burned out flames should never reignite

by averagefaces



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averagefaces/pseuds/averagefaces
Summary: chansung drops on the chair, the backrest cool against his bare skin. he shrugs a shoulder, running the pad of his forefinger along the deck of junho's bow. "you're taught to shoot them, we're taught to dodge them."warning for minor character death and torture.





	burned out flames should never reignite

**Author's Note:**

> published september 2013. revised march 2017. reposted january 2019.  
> this is a work of fiction, no harm intended to any parties involved. please do not repost/copy or translate without permission; you're welcome to share this link. thank you for reading!

**** they're a catastrophe just waiting to unfold. they're nothing alike, so different at the very basics of existence. they  _ shouldn't  _ work out. chansung tells himself this every morning when he wakes up, repeats it quietly when he's brushing his teeth, and goes over it again whenever he lies down at night and lets junho cuddle close. he murmurs it like a mantra at the back of his mind when he kisses junho, slow and tender, and whispers it into the skin of junho's thighs, a rumble that goes from the pit of his stomach and echoes off the dip in junho's hip as he breathes in, the smell of rail lube and string wax mixed along with gritty wolfsbane.

but, mostly, chansung thinks of this when he's sitting at the ledge of the rooftop in wooyoung's house, nails digging into the wooden surface under his thighs, and listens to the briefings and the planning and everything in between. (nichkhun always says it's dangerous, that he should let the betas do it, but chansung dismisses him all the time – he does this to protect the pack, because pack is family and when shit goes down, he needs to keep them  _ safe _ , out of the eye of the storm, so to speak.)

junho knows it, too – knows about the unavoidable reality waiting for them outside this small apartment right out of town, hidden in a jungle of same-looking buildings, right out of territory – knows it's only a matter of time before their half-truths and pitiful excuses stop making sense, before one lie too many become that extra drop for the glass to collapse.

"d'you think they'd kill us?" he asks junho once, in the middle of the night, because that's how they do things: in the darkness, hidden from view under heavy blankets, feet locking around each other where no one would even attempt to look for too long.

chansung doesn't pretend this is a forbidden topic anymore. there's no point.

junho is unresponsive for so long, his heart a rhythmic beat and his pulse matching it, that chansung deems him asleep. but then junho sighs, low and steady, just like the beating of his heart, and chansung remembers – remembers who junho  _ is  _ and what he can do.

"there's a code," junho says, voice tired. he turns around to lie on his side, his head propped up on his hand, and he levels chansung with an assessing look. chansung hates that look – that's the  _ i'm a hunter _ look. he's been on the receiving end of it twice, once when junho almost killed him and another when chansung almost killed junho. "we go by the code."

"your code hasn't stopped us," chansung reminds him quietly. he takes a breath, and he can smell the fight dropping off and away from junho, can smell the defeat. "why would it stop them?"

junho doesn't answer. he never does.

-

the thing is, when chansung signed up to be alpha (read: killed jinyoung because he was an annoying and psychopath little shit and chansung was a hundred percent done with his  _ kill humans before humans kill you _ philosophy – he was grateful, though, not everyone finds it in their hearts to take in a lone wolf and make him pack; perks of being born and not bitten, maybe), he had no idea it'd be this  _ hard _ .

by hard, of course, he means be responsible for a bunch of werewolves just as clueless as him. chansung figures he should've put more thought on that one, but he'd be lying if he said all days are as bad as this one. like, it's not every day nichkhun happens to be chasing a deer as basic speed training and stumbles into a dead teenager surrounded by hunters doing recon.

no, that's only happened twice.

chansung should consider kicking nichkhun out of the pack but he's the one with the good looks and charming smiles that usually get them out of trouble because apparently one of the hunters finds him cute. but this time, this time chansung feels things will go horribly wrong no matter how pretty nichkhun's hair is.

"they shot me," nichkhun says raggedly through the phone, "arrow, nothing big. but  _ they shot me _ ."

"that's what they do," chansung says, and steps on the gas, "just hold on, okay, i'm on my way."

nichkhun smells like dried blood and wood and burnt grass when chansung finds him, sitting at the edge of the road with his head on his knees. they don't talk all the way back to the warehouse, or when fei and jinwoon meet them at their improvised living room with two cups of tea and a wet towel for nichkhun to clean up.

"it was your local superheroes," nichkhun says a while later, smelling more like himself and pack. chansung nods and fei makes a little bored sound. "junho was there," he adds, and chansung nods again.

"he let you off," he sighs, and senses the anger before he can smell it.

" _ after he shot me _ ," nichkhun grits out. his eyes flash gold. "with his fucking crossbow, if i may add."

"chansung," jinwoon starts, "shouldn't you talk to him – about this? i thought we had a truce –"

"we do."

"- except he still fucking shoots arrows at werewolves like it's no big deal," nichkhun throws in.

"i'll talk to him," chansung says, and nods at fei. "you're in charge till i get back."

she nods and doesn't argue, which chansung wasn't expecting her to. (the only one who bitches when facing responsibility is minjun.) chansung heads for the door and locks it behind him, metal crackling loud enough to make his ears hurt. his jacket still smells like grass and blood from when nichkhun and him had gone to check the body before the cops arrived, and for a second chansung misses the underlying smell of cleaning oil, barely present under so many layers of metal and the smell of pack that clings to the abandoned structure as much as dust does.

"you shot nichkhun," he says, just as junho comes out of the shadows near the improvised parking-lot.

(everything in their lives is improvised, chansung thinks, their powers, their homes – themselves.)

"i can explain," junho says. chansung can smell the guilt, curling low and steady around them as junho draws closer. "this girl – the one we found. she was a hunter's daughter. that's motif. everyone's shaken up. i needed to make a statement in front of my men."

junho smells like apprehension, and his eyes are open, chansung can see  _ junho the human _ in them and that hasn't happened in the six years they've known each other. there's an uneasiness in him, a stutter to his heartbeat that shouldn't be there, that junho shouldn't let show because he's been trained to keep it at bay. he's wearing a hoodie and a jacket on top of it, and it smells nothing like hunting gear, smells clean and warm and like junho's place near downtown smells like.

he knows the pack is listening back in the confines of the warehouse, can hear wooyoung and taecyeon arm-wrestling, the pull in their muscles and the moment when taecyeon's bones snap and heal instantly. wooyoung cackles and it's high-pitched, nichkhun and fei shushing them because they're listening in on them. he knows if he doesn't stand up for nichkhun he's going to get the stink eye for a month at least.

chansung leans against the side of the car, the one still covered in shadows. "do you remember how we met? truly met, i mean."

junho swallows, blinking. the open look is gone, and back in its place is the calculating fondness junho manages to pull off god knows how. "yeah," he says.

"you had to kill me," chansung crosses his arms over his chest, the toe of his left boot scuffing at the grit on the floor. "your father sent you to kill me and you didn't because you wanted to make a point."

"that was different," junho says, and he huffs a laugh. it's meant to tease and make the stiff bubble they're currently in snap, but it stings more than anything else. chansung can't figure out why.

"how is this different," chansung asks, raising his eyebrows. "you shot me, too, back then."

junho steps closer, his face carefully guarded, but his heart rate is picking up and chansung's fingertips itch to touch.

"i'm not in love with nichkhun," he says slowly. "he's pretty but he's not my type. besides i believe wooyoung called dibs on him long ago."

chansung can hear nichkhun snorting and muttering, "bullshit," all the way from here, minjun and fei cooing like the little saps they are, and wooyoung snorting a, "damn right i did."

-

this is probably where chansung should notice things are shifty. he doesn't, of course he doesn't, he's busy pinning junho down to the futon. he buries his face in junho's neck, the pulse line under his teeth fluttering slightly off range. he smells like autumn leaves and chocolate cookies.

chansung smiles, lifts his head. "did you miss me," he asks, kissing the tip of junho's nose as welcome.

junho huffs. "not one bit, you're one pain in my ass –"

" _ well _ –"

"walked straight into that one, didn't i?" junho shakes with laughter, his hands coming to grip chansung's sides. chansung is looking at him amusedly, resisting the urge to tease junho until he scowls and calls him a dickhead.

"ass jokes shouldn't be this amusing," chansung says.

junho hums. there's a quiet pause where they just look at each other, chansung still on top of him, and junho looking back with something close to wonder in his eyes. the wonder turns into wariness before chansung can blink, and then, when it's replaced by guilt and wonder, yet again, chansung feels like he's missing something – something big.

but he dismisses it, distracted by junho offering a private place just for the both of them a few hours outside the city, a loft his parents once owned that's on a random relative's name and couldn't be traced back to them. junho says they shouldn't meet like this anymore, here, in the warehouse, with the pack around them and so easy to spot. they're his friends, too, he says, but it'd be better if they could have privacy, if they could have a place where worrying about superb smelling abilities came only as a secondary concern rather than the only thing they can focus on whenever junho's around.

and chansung agrees, sees no problem in it, and only widens his eyes slightly when junho takes a key from his pocket, shiny and too real.

-

"they're talking about witches," he tells minjun. "there's a covenant somewhere up north. they're taking a recon team at dawn."

"dawn is such a boring time of the day," minjun sighs. "oh, hey, by the way, fei's birthday is on friday and she's having a thing at her parents' place since they're off in the caribbean. she said you should ask junho to come by. for old times' sake."

chansung hums distractedly, typing some more on his laptop. "doubt he's into that sort of thing."

minjun snorts. "what sort of thing? birthday gatherings? is he, like, a  _ sociopath  _ or something? i remember that party in junior year, you know. he danced on top of a table with someone's bra as his own lgbt flag."

"why am i on the phone with you again?" chansung purses his lips, tapping at the steering wheel while the security camera bug junho'd help him put loads in his screen.

"because i'm awesome company whenever you're on spy duty," minjun says, "and because everyone else is out getting shit ready for tomorrow. full moon shenanigans."

"you're all gonna be a pain in my ass," chansung sighs. "so, this  _ thing… _ "

this  _ thing  _ is something chansung shouldn't have agreed to. this thing is something junho shouldn't have agreed to, either. they have friends in common, sure, perks of growing up in a small town and going to the only high school in it. and that's what makes their lives even more hilarious, the realization that all of them, humans – hunters – and werewolves were classmates back in the day, some best friends and some study partners and the like.

junho could have a very good reason to be here, could say he's friends with that guy sitting near the window holding a red cup of god knows what and that'd be the end of it, if hunters asked. but the whole pack is in this thing – and not only that, fei herself is one of them, she's the fucking point of the whole  _ thing  _ – junho's been friends with them since junior high. they're all here and it's going to be weird, especially when the hunter population around their age start coming in.

chansung knew he shouldn't have let minjun make a facebook event. social networks will be the end of them, how poetic.

chansung can hear fei's heartbeat picking up and anger coming her way the minute changmin steps through the door. they used to date in sophomore year, but when they'd come of age – the hunters, at least – he'd put a bullet through fei's liver, and she took the hint. changmin smells like ashes and burnt flesh, and chansung tries not to gag, not to throw up over fei's parents' pretty wooden floors with how sick it makes him, realizing that's how death smells like.

junho stands next to him, smelling like peach vodka and cheese cubes, and it's a nice change, a welcomed distraction for his senses. he smells like after-shave too, like cleanliness always smells, soapy and overall clean, fresh and calm. it's satisfying, though, when under all those layers, chansung smells himself, too, tucked into junho's collarbones and the back of his ears. the closer he gets, though, the more he smells like wariness.

"they won't try anything here," he says. he's standing like he means business, like they haven't been making out in fei's parents' bathroom only fifteen minutes ago.

it's a cover, chansung knows, it's the façade and the only way he can make this exactly what it's not. because this isn't chansung talking to junho, no, this is the lead hunter talking to the alpha.

chansung nods, squaring his shoulders. "we mean no harm," he tells junho, and he knows changmin is close enough to listen in on them. "neither should you."

fei decides to walk up to them, then, smiling on top of the small wave of fear rolling off her. she has a tray of glasses in her hand and offers it to junho and changmin, standing just beside him. the stench grows, making chansung light headed, and he should probably ask junho about it later,  _ why are your hunters smelling like burnt corpses, anyway,  _ but he won't, he knows he won't. he'll forget or  _ something  _ will happen and it'll all be left in shadows. chansung should be better than that, should worry, but as long as the pack's safe – that's the only thing that matters. he strains to hear everyone's heartbeats, nichkhun and wooyoung's tucked away in the garden, calm and even; taecyeon's in the kitchen picking up with that intensity that means arousal, and too much information,  _ god _ ; jinwoon's steady but thrumming as he sings along to something the dj's got on; minjun's and fei's strong but wary a few feet away.

chansung has never encountered any problems with changmin, but better to be safe than sorry. he nods at him, staying his ground, and changmin sneers, thinking he's been stealthy about his approach by the smug curl of his lips, but fei – god bless her heart – gives him none of that.

"you've been eyeing the tray for the past fifteen minutes, might as well take a glass," she says, smiling sweetly and flashing her eyes gold.

changmin makes at her, but junho stops him with a look. "stand the fuck down, would you, i wanna have a relaxing night. try to be normal for once, god fucking damn it."

fei smiles again, easier this time, and pats chansung's arm before walking off towards minjun, and just to keep up the cover, chansung follows after her, junho's gaze burning hot at the back of his neck.

-

a year. a year is how long it lasts.

chansung isn't expecting, like, a polite knock at the door, but nichkhun's already wolfed out by the time the first round of bullets cuts through the stillness of a tuesday evening. they've been going over the last police reports for the body found in the riverside, trying to figure out – and coming close to – what kind of creature could've mauled a body that way. (chansung is honestly getting tired of finding bodies, finding  _ death  _ just around the corner – so freaking  _ tired _ .)

"get out," chansung says, and nichkhun's eyes widen. "take the back, they don't know about the gate."  _ junho doesn't know about the gate _ , is what he means.

"chansung –"

"i said go," chansung bares his teeth this time, and his eyes glow red. nichkhun swallows, and the fear is heavy in the air; everyone else must have smelled the mix of gunpowder and wolfsbane by now. and the ozone.  _ fuck _ , chansung hates electricity so fucking much.

nichkhun, minjun, taecyeon, wooyoung, jinwoon and fei manage to run away in time, because no long after the door's been literally gunned down, two hunters come through the back, and three step through the front door.

junho's right at the center, flanked by changmin and seulong. they're bigger in comparison, but chansung knows better than to make a comment about it. last time he did junho poked him with the tip of a blade. chansung smiles at them, shit-eating. there's a shotgun pointed at him from somewhere in his left, and seulong is holding a taser. chansung's seen worse, for all they know.

"well," he says, spreading his arms in a broad gesture, "took you long enough, gentlemen."

junho fires the first round of arrows, and chansung pretends he isn't surprised until he's on his knees and his face is out of view.

-

sometimes chansung wonders what it'd been like – if they were different, if they weren't  _ junho  _ and  _ chansung _ . sometimes he wonders what if they'd been the same, too – what if chansung was a hunter or what if junho was a werewolf and they didn't have to stand at different sides of an invisible line.

chansung wonders if they'd fallen in love anyway, if being allowed to would have made a difference, if they'd worked out better than they probably do now – if it'd been easier for everyone involved. because chansung learned from the very beginning he wasn't  _ just  _ seeing junho, there was more to his side, almost as much as chansung had on his. maybe that's why they worked, he thinks. being so different is what attracted them, opposites attract each other, yadda yadda.

and there's that other universal rule, isn't it,  _ one always wants what they can't have _ , and chansung  _ wants  _ – wants so badly to be different, to not be here and in  _ so much pain _ , to have been born somewhere else, to have junho born somewhere else – that he feels disgusted with himself, at how easily he could trade his life for a different one, a different story.

(but the underlying truth chansung doesn't let himself think about is how they're both forbidden, strictly set against each other, centuries of battles and wars preceding them – that's possibly what brought them together in the first place, the heavy weight of a fight too big for their shoulders.)

-

they let him go. nothing can be proved and there's literally no blood in chansung's hands to be judged for.

seulong comes into his cell one morning and tosses a change of clothes his way. his hand is on top of his holster, thumb caught at the safety lock, smug grin tucked neatly in place. chansung is weak and tired and hasn't eaten in three days, which would make him as threatening as a stray dog – but chansung's an alpha, there's only so much energy that comes from his body alone. he is tired, and his limbs feel heavy, and seulong can go fuck himself with a silver stick, chansung is not going to move at least for another ten minutes.

"up, boy," seulong says, and crouches down in front of him.

chansung growls at him for good measure, but it comes out broken and weak.

"oh, come on, i come bearing good news," seulong says, and pats chansung's head like he would a dog's. "we're gonna let you go. for now, of course."

it takes a while but eventually chansung finds his voice. "why?"

"well, it turns out the body we found at the river wasn't mauled by werewolves. it was another type of creature, and now that that's taken care of, you're no longer under arrest. yay!"

chansung wonders if he'd be submitted to a painful death if he bit seulong's throat off right now. considering the only other human he can smell is right outside the door and seems to have a shitload of wolfsbane bullets on him, he'd say painful is the only way it'd go.

it'd be  _ so  _ worth it, though. 

"besides," seulong continues, "there hasn't been any sort of werewolf attack lately, which means that either your pack is pissing themselves and hiding away or you've actually got them all on a leash. kudos to that, my friend."

"are you gonna talk me to death or are you gonna let me go?" chansung snarls, abandoning the kill-seulong idea at the mention of the pack. the pack is infinitely more important than this little piece of shit getting on his nerves.

seulong chuckles and stands, kicking the clothes he'd dropped earlier closer to chansung. "get ready, we'll give you a lift home."

it takes chansung a painful amount of time and strength to slip into the pair of joggers and the old sweatshirt that's maybe a size too small for him, but he manages. the sleeves are barely covering the bruises in his wrists and as he pulls the fabric down his chest, it catches in the cuts in his back and it stings like fuck, but he only whimpers once, breathing in and out of his nose as the dizziness from being on his own feet after so long intensifies.

he doesn't think of junho as the door is pushed open and seulong walks back in, he focuses on the heartbeats around him and not the one hidden past ten hundred corridors, steady and slow like chansung knows it to be.

instead, he braces for the sting of the taser, and closes his eyes through the pain.

-

when chansung comes to it, he's lying on hard, burnt pavement. it stenches, his nose and lungs burning with every breath he takes, and his cheek burning hot when it meets concrete. his limbs are unresponsive for a while, for as long as he lies there breathing ashes and embers that taste like metal when he opens his mouth.

he tries to get on all fours, his knees protesting when he manages to get his weight on them and the heels of his hands. his claws are out, out of pure reflex, and it's painful to relax his bones and joints from the imminent shift, but he grounds himself enough to stay relatively human – fangs and claws still breaking the surface – willing his body to heal faster. the bruises around his wrists are gone and his back isn't hurting so much and just throbbing like he's been lying on the wrong position for too long, but he's still weak.

chansung doesn't have to look up to know this is the warehouse that served as improvised home for the pack for the last three years. he can  _ smell  _ them under the dirt and the fire, can feel that homey sensation that nagged at the back of his brain whenever he let himself think of it because it's more of a sensorial memory by now.

but, above all that and sharper, he can smell junho standing a few feet away.

he doesn't say anything – none of them do. chansung manages to get on his feet slowly, leaning up against a broken pile of what looks like the bunch of couches they had inside. he breathes in and out, trying to get as much oxygen as possible, but it's hard, everything around him smells like smoke – smoke and  _ junho  _ – and remains of the warehouse that are still burning somewhere close.

he looks up at the sky, darkened by storm clouds. his body is regaining consciousness of it, his knees no longer shaking when he tries to stand up fully. dull pain grows over his stomach, though, right where seulong had put the taser on. that first touch of contact always takes longer to heal.

"here to finish the job?" he hears himself ask. "burn me, too, so it looks like the whole place burned down on me?"

junho doesn't answer, is just standing at where the door – the door he brought down, by the way, in all his hunter badassery – should be when chansung dares to look at him.

when their eyes meet is like the catastrophe isn't waiting to just unfold on them – it's like it's eating them from the inside out, burning everything around them to the ground, fast and unrelenting as it goes. chansung shakes, in anger and fear and heartbreak, and holds junho's gaze for what feels like hours.

eventually, junho opens his mouth, and there's tension coming out of him and at chansung like a punch to the gut. "jinwoon didn't make it." chansung feels his heart drop, and, ironically, junho's still beating a steady beat. "they were here last night – your pack. all of them. and jinwoon – he, he didn't –"

chansung shakes his head, maybe if he shakes it enough to make himself dizzy again, junho will go away as quickly as he appeared.

"they shouldn't have been here," junho continues, all political sentiment pouring off him like waves chansung wishes he were strong enough to dodge. it's all too much, the smoke, the blood he can pick up the more he heals, the  _ physical punch  _ it means to have a member of the pack  _ gone _ . it's a wonder he's still breathing. "i told seulong he had to make sure no one –"

"stop," he wheezes, and sags back down on the floor, his head too heavy for his shoulders. maybe this is where he passes out –  _ finally  _ – maybe this is where junho stops talking and just leaves him alone.

he can hear junho's heart stutter and, hey, that's new, can hear the sound of his boots over the burnt wood beneath him, and chansung should move, he's strong enough to move now – if junho kills him, the pack has no alpha. they'll scatter around, loners unless one of them decides to lead, but chansung doesn't put much faith on that thought, all things considered.

if he dies, the whole pack is fucked up. omegas are easier to track down and kill.

but if he doesn't, they're still fucked up grandly, one member – one limb – down and half of them probably revenge-thirsty, and there's only so much pain chansung can go through in the foreseeable future like to consider a war as possibility.

truth is, though, chansung is tired of fighting, of being alert and waiting for the rip of electricity or the sting of wolfsbane in his veins and the rush of muscle breaking under the tip of an arrow. he's tired of feeling like a  _ criminal _ , and he shouldn't, fuck that, it's not fair to put that on his shoulders.

"he never killed anyone," chansung says in a small voice, and his lips are tugging upwards, painful. "jinwoon, he – he was like switzerland. never sided with anyone. minjun always said he was a softie but he was the most noble of them all. he found this old place, said it'd been inhabited for years, and one day he and wooyoung started bringing old couches and chairs they found in garage sells. kid was fucking crazy, but he tried to make it home, you know." he looks up then, fixes junho with a careful look. "junho,  _ jinwoon _ . you killed  _ jinwoon. _ "

"chansung –"

" _ fuck you _ ," chansung starts, and feels  _ disgusted _ , disgusted at sitting here, right where his home should be and was burnt down to ashes and scrapes of metal. disgusted at how junho can be so casual about this when it's the death of someone he knew and went to high school with, someone he was  _ friends  _ with.

that's the breaking point, chansung supposes.

"you call  _ us  _ the rabid dogs. you call  _ us  _ the animals."

junho looks away. his heart stutters again and guilt rolls off him.

" _ look at me _ ," chansung raises his voice, and junho's heart jumps with it, and it makes chansung wonder if he's actually letting his guard down or if he's doing it on purpose, pretending this affects him, and the thought he  _ could  _ pisses him off even more.

"look at this." chansung spreads his arms open, and it hits a raw nerve, remembering the last time he stood like this in front of junho, open and vulnerable, just waiting, he'd gotten an arrow in the stomach and two in every thigh. "this is what you  _ do _ . this is what your  _ code  _ does." he laughs bitterly, but every exhalation makes his ribs ache. " _ we hunt those who hunt us _ ? give me a fucking break.  _ you  _ are the disgusting animals you're so fucking  _ afraid  _ of."

maybe they should talk about themselves. maybe they should talk about how this is heartbreaking in more ways than just one, how this is not the aftermath they should've had nor the one they deserve. or at least not the one chansung thought they'd have. he knew it wouldn't be pretty, but he never in a million years would have guessed the collateral damage would reach these ends. chansung realizes, then, that this whole thing – the fire and the torture and jinwoon – isn't about them. it's about the core of their natures – hunters and werewolves.

a statement.

chansung is possibly going to throw up anytime now.

"i think you should leave now," he says, and looks down at the floor, trying to find the best spot to just sit down at without getting broken glass and metal up his ass.

"i'm not gonna leave you here alone –"

chansung doesn't bother growling or shifting. it's never worked on junho. "shouldn't have left me alone in that cell, either." junho falters, one foot frozen in front of the other. chansung smiles wryly. "stings, doesn't it? try getting electrocuted five times a day."

junho clenches his teeth. "i'm not gonna leave you here alone."

"i'm not alone," chansung sighs, leaning back against the burnt couch pile, "i have a pack." taking a deep inhale, he adds, "and they're close. and so is your fucking bunch of rabid psychos. i can smell archers, you know. you all smell the same," he rasps, laughing bitterly, "careful and calculating, cold as fuck."

for a moment, they're quiet again. chansung has healed completely, his broken ribs included, judging by the way he can breathe better now. he plants his feet on the ground, and slides slowly down the grime to sit on top of what looks like the mosquito web they set on the windows. junho still stands ten feet away, the only uneasiness about him located in his eyes. everything else is as smooth as always, steady heart, set jaw. chansung both loves and hates him for it, but that's probably something he'll have to deal with later.

much, much later. like, in fifty or so years. dog years, preferably.

"i'm sorry," junho says. his heartbeat, although fast, is steady as he says it.

chansung doesn't know if he means it. "don't care," he answers, and smells fei before he can see her. "you should go. i smell pissed betas."

junho doesn't leave fast enough, though, and when fei and nichkhun show up, chansung is tempted to just let them, but junho is fast, he's the best and he's not stupid and chansung won't let any of them die in his fucking hands anymore. he growls at them before they pounce on junho, his eyes flashing red, and the instinct in them makes them falter, recoil on their own anger and stay still. that will  _ definitely  _ get him the stink eye.

" _ don't _ ," he says through his fangs, standing up on steady feet right between junho's raised .45 and nichkhun all wolfed out and oozing anger like an open wound. nichkhun shifts back and stares at him, unblinkingly. "not now," chansung says, and junho's heart does that thing where it stops beating for two seconds before it's back on, steady and calm as always, calculated.

it's a statement, and junho knows it.

chansung's glad.

-

they leave the warehouse behind and drive south. minjun is still healing – both on the inside and the outside, fei tells him sadly – and they spend nights in dodgy motels and unmapped roads. they should probably keep it up, stay on the move for as long and further as possible, but it's tiring,  _ weakening _ .

when chansung was little and his dad was the alpha in their pack of four, he used to say wolves healed faster in the darkness, away from everything. mom used to say the same, said when stricken, one should hide and heal, let nature do its mojo. and it makes sense, chansung supposes, because they aren't healing correctly, none of them are. but it's more than emotional damage, having lost jinwoon. it's how packs work: losing a member means more than losing a friend, it's like losing a  _ limb _ , skin, muscle and bone, leaves raw nerves crying out in agony.  _ those heal, but it takes time _ , mom used to say. she just forgot to mention how long exactly.

it's been two months. eight weeks of clipped silence and anger and hurt all tied up in knots hanging tight above them inside fei's rattled 67' chevy. chansung remembers home – home before the pack, before jinyoung – when they're on the road like this, remembers his mother sitting at the front and arguing with dad about what the fastest way to that restaurant they liked so much was, their laughter, their banter, chansung and his brother rolling their eyes at every word. and it's weird, having two visions of family and pack, that one and this one, and chansung doesn't know where one starts and the other one ends, what the differences are supposed to be, but it doesn't matter – not to chansung, anyway.

chansung wasn't raised to lead a pack. chansung was raised as a beta, his brother was the alpha-to-be. and, yeah, maybe chansung wasn't raised to be a leader, but he got the basic training down and, in between a lot of useful stuff he can't remember about right now but only in dire situations, falling in love with a hunter was very much at the top of the not-to-do list, and yet.

and yet junho had happened and chansung had fallen, quick and silent and aimless, like an arrow off into the darkness.

"i think we should stop for the night," he says, voice hoarse from disuse.

they're two towns away from the burnt warehouse, and the last time they stopped for rest was fifteen hours ago. taecyeon is on driver duty but chansung can smell it on him, the sleepiness and the aching bones and muscles. he grunts a response and fifteen minutes later they're pulling over at a drive thru motel, its walls dusted with grime and rain.

chansung takes the seemingly comfy couch. minjun bunks with fei in one of the singles, and taecyeon lets nichkhun and wooyoung have the other one. he grabs a blanket and a pillow from their bed, though, ("why do you need two pillows, you fuckers, you sleep on top of each other!") and heads for the tub, warning everyone – except chansung – that if he's woken up by freezing water again he will shove a stick of wolfsbane up their asses. fei's included.

chansung chuckles and lets them banter, wondering why he feels so old when he's younger than all of them. heartbreak, maybe. responsibilities.

they sleep, they do, but chansung can't.

-

most people think going from love to hate is an unnoticeable matter. like, one moment you're in love with someone, with their flaws and strengths and contradictions, and the next moment their very name can make your blood boil, disgusted and resentful. they think the transition is quick, smooth, imperceptible.

it isn't.

it pulls at you, reminds you of the good and the warm every time just to make your existence pathetic, life throws itself back at you, sneers in your face and asks,  _ see this? this is how pathetic you looked. this? this is how weak you let yourself be. this is how much you let them laugh at you. _ that's what you hate – the person you become when all that's left are just blurry memories that remind you how much of a fool you were, the way you can pick up pieces of your heart from between the ashes but can't figure out how to put it together, like all the pieces are burnt around the edges and nothing fits anymore.

that's what happens to chansung.

he knows, he remembers, he can still feel junho on his skin most nights, like an itch he can't scratch away or is not sure he wants to, can tap the tempo of his heartbeat with his fingers. and he  _ hates _ that, hates how much he let himself be dependent of warmth that wasn't supposed to be his in the first place. it's an awful affair for a couple of weeks – chansung doesn't let himself think about junho on the first three months of their extended trip to nowhere-in-particular, he's got grieving to do, for god's sake – until he eventually comes to terms with it.

that part  _ is  _ sudden, though, when he realizes hating junho won't make a difference, won't bring jinwoon back or put a roof over their heads that doesn't leak rain most nights.

but hating is passion, hating is feelings, deep and strong and intense and chansung knows better now, thinks,  _ why hate him at all? _

they were a catastrophe just waiting to happen.

-

("you should really change that deck," chansung yawns, holding the sheets tighter around his waist as he leans over junho's shoulder to peek at the table. "and your strings are loose. let me tell you, your badassery is losing points as we speak."

junho arches an eyebrow at him from across the kitchen table, his cleaning kit spread open next to the coffee pot he insists on filling but never drinking.

"how do you know about compound crossbows?" he asks.

chansung drops on the chair in front of junho's, the backrest cool against his bare skin. he shrugs a shoulder, running the pad of his forefinger along the deck of junho's bow.

"you're taught to shoot them. we're taught to dodge them.")

-

"i'm thinking we should head east now," nichkhun says, pointing at the map. there are a couple of towns in that direction, and only one pack each. shouldn't be much of a problem, they agree.

they're not on the run anymore, not quite; they locate neighbor packs and ask for a place for a few days, get to know them better, and then they're on the move again. chansung supposes it's time they settle down for good now, find somewhere quiet and close enough to civilization for them to find food and jobs and stuff but still removed away from prying eyes and wandering feet. it's hard, though, and,  _ home  _ doesn't mean the same anymore. it's been a year, a calmer year, but it hasn't been particularly easier, either. if anything, meeting new packs and interacting with them has reminded chansung of how lucky he's been so far and how much of it has been pure improvisation and a tingle of wishing and hoping for things to work out. and he hates that, knowing he's just been winging it – their lives – and that it probably cost jinwoon's.

"we'll drive in the morning, i'm fucking spent," minjun says from nichkhun's left flank. he's talking more now, full sentences and more curse words.

chansung nods and they fold the map up, stick it into one of the rucksacks along with their clothes and then they shove that into the trunk.

fei joins him when the guys have gone to bid their farewell to donghae and the rest of his pack. she presses close to his side, warm and smelling like lilies as she leans against the side of the car. she's always smelled like lilies and rain, even before she was bitten by jinyoung. chansung wonders what he smells like for the rest of them but he'll never ask, he'd live at least three weeks of jokes before someone took his question serious.

"you're a good alpha, you know that right?" she asks quietly, hugging herself against the breeze even though their body temperature is above normal range.

chansung ducks his head. "you're not good at something if you need people to say it only so you can believe it yourself."

"you're a good alpha," she repeats, and she smiles this time, "but you're also thick as fuck." chuckling, chansung nudges her. "i'm serious, though," she continues, and chansung knows she is, can hear her heart steady and constant, alive. "we know how much you've given up. they," she casts a glance back to the donghae's house, shaking her head lightly, "they pretend they don't get it, but they do. we  _ know  _ what junho meant to you. we know what you meant to him. he is – was? – our friend, too. sometimes, you just. one can't choose what family to belong to, chansung."

chansung doesn't dare to ask, "what i meant to him? care to share your knowledge?" and instead just looks down at the road. the thing is he's mostly kept that to himself – the heartbreak, the betrayal, the resentment – and talking about it out loud is not something that will come easy to him. fei is pack but first and foremost she's a friend, and it should be easy, chansung thinks, to just spill it over and talk about the shit that's been eating him from the inside out for so many months.

"some things just don't work out," he says. and that's just the summary of his life. "aren't supposed to."

"some do," she says, and there's conviction in her voice. "you were the youngest of us all. you shouldn't be leading us. but look at us." she touches his arm, her fingertips warm and soft. "look at you. look at where we are. we're alive – hungry as shit, but  _ alive _ ."

"if you're hungry you should –"

"not the point, chansung."

"oh. right." chansung nods, and looks up at the front door swinging open and nichkhun, wooyoung, taecyeon and minjun walking out, donghae and his pack waving behind them.

"we miss him too, you know," fei says after a while, and chansung nods again. "we miss both of them."

-

when they leave seungri's pack, he gives them a guy's number who deals with real-estates for werewolves and knows exactly how much space their kind needs. it's hilarious, and chansung is tempted to give seungri shit about it, but they go way back, as in pre-school way back before seungri's family moved out, and chansung appreciates him more than he'd like to admit.

the guy is more like a man in his forties, goes by the name of yang hyunsuk and says he's got a property a few hours away from seungri's place, up north and a little bit to the west and yep, that's the proverbial circle coming to a full close because none of them have realized until now that they're almost back where they started.

_ great. _

"i can get you something in seungri's area," hyunsuk says over the phone, and yeah, no. wolves are territorial, two packs can't stay in the same territory for long.

"it's been two years," minjun says, "water under the bridge." chansung arches an eyebrow at him. minjun shrugs. "don't look at me like that, holding a grudge is not what jinwoon would've wanted us to do."

wooyoung sighs. he's got a butterfly knife in one hand, circling it slowly in his palm. "considering the last time we met ju – mr. leader, i'd say they're alert and holding."

"you can say his name, you know," chansung repeats for the umpteenth time. "i'm not going to quiver in pain or what-the-fuck-ever."

"even if junho is waiting for us, he'd have no grounds to arrest us, or even  _ talk  _ to us," fei says, and smiles softly when chansung – out of sheer reflex, mind – squares his shoulders. "besides, it's our hometown," she continues, and there's a glint in her eye, a darkness that she usually doesn't let up most days.

but chansung can see it now, can see one day she's going to be the alpha of her own pack – she'll lead them all, will make rules and break hearts as she goes, her wild beauty sharpening along the years. chansung can see it, can almost smell it growing in the air, and he should feel threatened, should feel wary of her but he doesn't. it reminds him of his mom, actually, her fierceness and her power, the way she wasn't the alpha but called the shots either way, pointing dad in the right direction with barely a shift of her eyes.

"it's our territory," she says, and it sounds final, like that's enough reason to go back, and chansung knows it is.

-

the night before they're to meet up with hyunsuk, they sleep in the car, parked just outside their town, close to a steep hill that opens up fifty feet away and has a clear view of the city. street lights shine bright towards them, almost like a welcome, and chansung wishes he didn't feel so at home already.

nichkhun, wooyoung and fei are holed up in the back-seat, minjun on the passenger one with his feet propped on the dash, and taecyeon is lying on the front hood with his back on the windshield, chansung behind the wheel. he naps in intervals, first for an hour, then for an hour and a half, and when he wakes up after the second time, he doesn't fall back asleep. he's too riled up, his skin pulled tight and his bones throbbing incessantly like whenever he's about to shift.

he sniffs the air, picking out pack and dry grass quickly, but it's there, under everything, wax and oil and wolfsbane and ozone, and, if chansung strains enough, nitpicks deep enough into it, there's a bit of guilt as well, the sound of a steady heartbeat that's been echoing at the back of his skull for so long growing in intensity.

it should be weird, realizing there's been an unceasing  _ thump thump thump _ beating right next to where he can hear his own heartbeat. chansung doesn't want it to be weird, though, doesn't need this to be something he can't explain, that makes everything more complicated in more ways than one.

chansung doesn't need any more questions he can't find the answers to.

-

chansung met him when they were sixteen. junho was the new kid in school, was the loner that picked on nobody and no one knew more than his name when it came to it. they had only one class together, history, and where chansung was shit at it, junho was on the honor roll and professor koo praised him until junho's ears got pink and he smelled like embarrassment and pride mixed together.

they'd been lab partners in biology after that first semester, and junho was fun to hang out with when he wasn't bitching about human metabolism or whatever the topic of study was that week. he didn't meet the rest of them through chansung, though. taecyeon and him shared literature, and nichkhun and wooyoung were on the soccer team as well. jinwoon was in junho's chemistry class, and they'd put a home-made bomb in the pitch once, but there was no evidence to expel them, and they all had laughed for hours in wooyoung's room, had even started a plan to sneak another one – a small one, it's not like they were  _ terrorists  _ – in professor lee's class, but they'd never done it.

junho never knew about chansung's family. never knew about who chansung truly was, and he never seemed to catch anything weird either. but it was there, though, when they kissed at jinwoon's eighteenth birthday party, the way chansung could feel his own heart trying to beat its way out of his chest as he pressed closer, and how junho's was as calm as still water.

chansung should have known better.

junho tried to kill him when they were twenty. it wasn't a dire situation, wasn't even that emotional considering chansung's dad had just passed away and it was just him, his mom, his brother. taecyeon, after bitten by a fugitive alpha, had become pack too, but he was safe, at home with his own parents trying to explain the ordeal to them. chansung had been out in the woods, trying to beat his brother on a race home, and then the first arrow had come flying through.

and then another arrow had been aimed to maim and not to kill, and chansung had wheezed through the pain in his leg as he told his brother to  _ go, just keep going, i'm fine _ , the instinct to protect his new alpha kicking in, and when junho had come out of the shadows – dressed in black, from his jacket to his boots – chansung's gut had twisted, knocking the air out of him. junho had been as calm as ever, and chansung should have probably been ticked off by that, but he hadn't, and then they'd been there, in the middle of a clearing, the rest of the hunters reaching them with guns and arrows at the ready as they stared at each other.

they'd been together earlier in the day – sharing notes for their intro to philosophy exam, and junho'd gone down on him while chansung tried to remember facts and names and dates and had to recite them correctly if he wanted to keep junho and his mouth going.

and yet there they stood – well, chansung limped – staring at each other like they were meeting for the first time, and for the most part, they were. 

(perhaps this is where chansung should've put a stop to his feelings.)

junho hadn't killed him – he'd smelled like adrenaline and cinnamon, deadly but sweet, but hadn't kill him. one of the hunters had said,  _ your father said we had to  _ – but junho had pulled a .22 out of its holster faster than any average human (or werewolf, and chansung had to give him that) and shoved it an inch away from the hunter's nose.

_ i am not my father _ , he'd said, and then he'd walked away, catching moonlight on his hair as he'd gone.

the next morning junho'd knocked on his bedroom door, chansung's mom calling her goodbyes as she left for work, and he'd pinned chansung to the wall, next to his history books and his math medals and had kissed him, slow and tender and sweet, and chansung had kissed back, hopeless and helpless and so incredibly in love.

and for a while – a small period of time, things were okay. not okay okay, but junho was their friend – he was  _ pack  _ – everyone got it, one didn't choose their family. water under the bridge, or something like that wooyoung'd said. but then jinyoung had happened, and out of the ten teenagers he'd bitten, only four had made it through the night.

chansung tried to kill junho when he turned twenty one and junho's dad had put bullets through the rest of the pack – chansung's pack, his mother, his brother, his family. it had been ugly, to say the least. his brother had been blamed for jinyoung's doing, and it'd just been a disaster waiting to happen.

hunters had set off to chase chansung through the woods – the woods chansung knew (and knows) better than he knew himself – and he'd managed to lose them towards the river, hidden by old trees and bushes.

but junho'd known how to find him. he'd always just  _ known  _ and chansung'd always been so stupidly gone.

chansung had bared his teeth, ready to maim and kill and hurt, give as much pain as he had bottled up inside, claws ready, and then he'd smelled it – the sorrow. junho had backed up against a tree, his heartbeat steady as the river and his eyes shining under pale moonlight. chansung could still hear them, the rest of the hunters, hollering at each other, burying themselves further into the woods and farther away from the piece of forest they'd tucked into.

and for a moment they stood there – didn't they always – breathing hard, chansung all wolfed out and junho's fingers tight around his crossbow. chansung could have killed him, could have dug his claws into the flesh of junho's chest but he hadn't. he'd pounced forward, though, pinned junho against the tree with a hand around his throat, and yet junho hadn't raised his bow, not even once.

_ i'm sorry _ , he'd murmured,  _ i'm so sorry _ .

chansung probably should have remembered that all archers were trained to keep their heart steady, to control the pump of blood in their veins so it matches the pull of the bow and the speed of the arrow.

he shouldn't have believed him so easily, so quickly, so blindly.

-

this time junho smells like nicotine. it's more of a stench, tickling at chansung's nose and making him purse his lips with how stale it is. he's dressed casually, almost as chansung is; worn out t-shirt, soft jeans, chucks. if it weren't for the blade tucked in junho's ankle and the whole werewolfiness of chansung, they'd be two normal guys just chilling.

far from the truth, though, so far you can't see it anymore.

it's daytime, somewhere around three in the afternoon, and junho's sitting next to him on a ratty old bench outside the high school they used to go to. it's spring break, only a few kids from the soccer team are attending practice, and they sit there, watching the ball drift around the grass like nothing has happened between them, like there's nothing hanging heavy between them.

chansung can smell wooyoung a mile down in the woods, leaves crunching beneath his feet.

"did you figure out who did it?" he asks after a lengthy pause and a cry of  _ you kicked me in the balls, man, what the fuck _ from the pitch. it's rather suiting, chansung thinks.

junho nods, letting out a sigh. "vampires."

"how long did it take you to figure it out?"

"two weeks."

chansung nods. supernatural shit happens way too often in this town. then again, supernatural attracts more supernatural, so maybe it's all chansung's fault. maybe they should really retreat themselves into the woods, further they've ever been. minjun had said it'd even be easier to hunt wild animals to eat rather than expose a whole town to shit like witches and harpies. god, harpies are the worst.

vampires, though.

"death by vampire is different than death by werewolf," he says. "you needed two weeks to figure that out? needed to burn down our home to get it?" he doesn't say jinwoon's name but junho flinches all the same, and chansung's glad. "shitty excuse for hunters, you lot are."

"i wanted out," junho says out of nowhere, seems to blurt out, actually, and it's like everything about him comes crumbling down when chansung turns to look at him. his skin is pale and ashen, his eyes sunken but bright. he deflates, his forearms slumping over his thighs, and it's like he just gives up, lets his walls down and chansung can  _ see _ , can hear junho's blood thumping in his veins, more alive than junho's ever looked even if he's three seconds away from passing out from where chansung's sitting and watching.

it's unsettling; junho's never let himself be seen this vulnerable, and chansung doesn't know if he should scoot away or scoot closer. (that's been the deal ever since they found out about each other, since the sneaking around started and chansung didn't know how much contact was allowed before it was thought suspicious.) he didn't sign up for this, damn it.

junho sighs again, running a hand through his hair, his head hanging low. "when we found the body – i knew it wasn't a werewolf. and i wanted out. they were gonna go after you anyways. and i – i couldn't be a part of that."

chansung waits. he's good at waiting, he's good at biting his tongue and keeping himself at bay. who knows, maybe they're being watched by someone who isn't wooyoung. in fact, wooyoung shouldn't even be here. he wonders if their alpha-beta bond is strong enough to develop some telepathy.

"they – they're tough bastards, okay. we're all trained to not break, even if – even if they get handsy on the family. or friends." some of the kids still in the pitch are shouting weird stuff at each other, but junho doesn't pay attention, just keeps his head low, his heart rabbit fast against his ribcage, and chansung's wants to join in the race, too, and that probably shouldn't be a good sign because chansung's over it, but.

"friends," chansung repeats.

"they were gonna get fei," junho breathes. "not at her birthday – at the warehouse. the day we were there, when they took you. they were gonna get her."

"why?"

"what do you mean  _ why _ ?" junho asks, exasperated, but it doesn't tick chansung off. "she's the only female in a pack of werewolves. she's bound to be someone's mate, isn't she? probably another alpha's – maybe even yours. that'd mean easier access to the pack. you get one, that one gets another, and then everyone just comes to you. like a pile of puppies, seulong said. i was there to make sure they didn't get her."

chansung would point out it's actually a very good tactic, but he's too disgusted to even open his mouth.

"but fei wasn't even in the warehouse when we got there." junho's voice is not wavering but it's a near thing and chansung is too in awe to even think about it, or process this whole thing, junho opening up even if chansung didn't ask him to. "and we got you instead."

junho sits up, throwing his head back as he lets out a laugh. it's nothing like he usually sounds when he laughs, though, this is a miserable sound, like junho's spitting something gross and thick from the back of his throat.

"i shot you," he says, and there's disgust in his face when chansung looks at him. "and they – i watched you get shoved into the trunk of a car, and i could  _ hear  _ your bones breaking."

chansung looks at him steadily, for once glad junho isn't a werewolf so he can pick on chansung's heart beating frantically. "you could've stopped it, though. you are their leader."

junho exhales a shaky breath, his face calm. "i was until that night at the warehouse. i – i left them. not the life, but i left them." he clasps his hands tightly in his lap, looking out into the pitch and away from chansung. "he was my friend, too, you know," he says quietly, and chansung's stomach flips at the tacit mention of jinwoon's name. "if you want to hate me for his death, you can. if you want to blame me, it's okay, too. i do it every day."

"it's not about that," chansung says, shaking his head. the sun is setting and everything around them looks bronzed, dipped in an orange halo, bright and sharp to the eyes. "you know that."

another silence falls upon them, but it's easier this time – chansung seats back against the bench, lets junho breathe in and out right next to him for what feels like days and seconds blurred into one single moment of quiet, hazed calmness. chansung can't remember when was the last time he sat with junho like this, out in the open, with kids shouting around them and sky darkening slowly above them. high school, maybe.

_ we're here to stay _ , is what he wants to say, the words already tied at the tip of his tongue, but junho's silent, deadly so, and his heart is returning to normal, to its usual steady calmness, except now there's something more in it, a quiet thump that wasn't there before, another kind of span to it, achingly familiar and so alive it's like chansung can hear it echo around them, off his own bones,  off the trees and the grass and the earth.

even if there's a foot long empty space between them, chansung can feel him on his skin, like an itch that's been there for the past year, or two years, or even five, maybe a lifetime – chansung doesn't know, can't put a name to it, a start date, nothing. it's there as much as junho is there sitting next to him, and chansung has heard enough of the were folklore to even try to come up with a story that fits this one, knows too much has happened and nothing will fit – at least, he tells himself, nothing he'd want to hear.

he meant it, not needing more unanswered questions, but this one's the kind that pokes and prods at the back of your neck until you deal with it. but chansung's tired, has been tired of trying to find excuses for them to not work out, not to make sense in their own way, under their own rules.

"you're here to stay," is what junho says, cutting the lengthy pause they'd fallen into and chansung's train of elaborated thought, careful and hopeful and anxious, and chansung wishes it weren't so complicated, that he could just lunge forwards and kiss him, breathe him, touch him.

"yeah," he says, and has a sudden flashback of his mother, stern and powerful,  _ say it with conviction _ , "yes, we are."

"good," junho says, small and quiet, and the new pace of his heart doesn't change, doesn't pick up or slow down, beats and beats and beats and calls chansung's name. "that's good – welcome home, then."

it's  _ too much _ , too much of it all too soon, but chansung doesn't want it to stop.

-

it's an old house right out of town, with eleven rooms, six bathrooms, a kitchen wide enough for nichkhun to finally fulfill his bakery dreams, a diner that reminds chansung of his old home, lit and spacious and warm.

for once in his life, chansung uses his alpha status to pick the bedroom that's bigger and faces west, towards the woods, where he can see the moon setting when it's full, and spends forty minutes at the balcony just breathing in, old wood and grass and pack.

by the time he comes down, all six of them are piled on the single couch in front of the stairs, limbs tangled with one another's, and chansung gets it, the comfort in it, being tangled in each other, smelling like each other, their hearts matching and breathing paired up. that's what the pack's for, not only moral support but physical as well – literal physical support. they are a pile of puppies.

chansung watches them for a moment, feels extremely small standing at the bottom of the stairs. eventually nichkhun wakes up from their synchronized nap and waves a hand at him.

"what are you doing standing all by yourself over there?"

chansung shrugs. "just counting how many minutes are left until you destroy that couch."

"it's not like we're –"

there's a crackling sound, and for a minute chansung thinks and expects the pain of the taser, but what actually happens is far less painful and far more hilarious than that. it's a heap of flailing limbs and groans and snarling and wooyoung calling, "wasn't my fault!" and minjun saying he's too old for this shit.

"you're all pussies," fei says as she gets up, dusting her pants off and bouncing – literally – towards chansung, looping an arm around his shoulders. "d'you think domino's would deliver all the way here?"

taecyeon pipes up at that. "or we could drive into town and get a few pizzas by ourselves? kinda been wanting to meet our old friends, you know, i mean –" he looks at chansung carefully "– unless it's too dangerous."

chansung makes a face and waves a hand vaguely. "just don't crash fei's car. or someone else's car. i mean it. you will pay for it if you do. the hwang trust-fund can only cover so much and we're already a few figures down thanks to nichkhun ramsay over here."

nichkhun blows a kiss at him. "love you, man, but i'm more like nigella."

"aw, babe," wooyoung coos, and it's hilarious they're all still lying on the floor on top of the destroyed couch, fei is shaking with laughter next to him, "you even have the boobs to match – ow, damn you, no biting! that's it, you ain't getting any tonight!"

"can you two shut the fuck up," taecyeon says flatly as he stands up and helps minjun to his feet. "alright, any particular toppings you lot would – wooyoung, i swear to god if you make a sexual innuendo i will find a stick of wolfsbane that matches the size of your –"

"okay," chansung calls loudly, and nudges fei into calming down because she's as red as a tomato and there are tears in her eyes, "just get the regulars, okay, just go, we'll deal with shit here."

taecyeon, minjun and wooyoung drive away and the rest of them stand there for a while, looking at the closed front door with apprehension until nichkhun gets to his feet and claps his hands together twice. "alright, we have unpacking and unboxing to do."

they don't, not really, all their belongings (at least what they could rescue) were shoved in the trunk of fei's car and some stored at her parents' house, and after a quite heartfelt reunion with them, they'd driven back to the house, feeling warm and fuzzy. in wooyoung's case he's let his sister know he's here and she should be coming to visit in a few days. that’s it for them, that's all the extra family they have. taecyeon's parents couldn't deal with the claws and the snarling, nichkhun's and minjun's are no longer in the picture, same as chansung's.

they're all they have – skin, bones and sinew. and as long as there's a roof over their heads, they're okay. safe.

"we need a tv," fei calls from where she's folding blankets in the living room while he and nichkhun try to get the gas connection up and working without it exploding in their faces.

"we need jobs," chansung mutters, and nichkhun snickers.

"i could bartend again, i guess. tips were good," he says. "older dudes are really generous when you smile the right way at them."

"your wife might not appreciate that," fei calls back.

chansung speaks before nichkhun has the chance to. "whatever's fine with you," he says, "it's not like we have to pay rent, but being busy – it could be a good change."

"and we don't have to hide anymore," nichkhun nods and then catches himself, sending a careful look at chansung. "i – wooyoung told us, what junho did for us."

"yeah," chansung says, clearing his throat and trying not to flush too much because that's not the only thing junho said that day and the fact wooyoung heard and possibly told them makes him self-conscious.

"calm down," nichkhun says, smiling, patting chansung on the shoulder and dumping a screwdriver on the countertop next to the blank space that will be housing a professional oven in two weeks. chansung's sure he must be smelling like apprehension and embarrassment and nichkhun's picked it up. "he very pointedly told us to fuck off when we asked for the gory details."

"well, that was nice of him," chansung says, feeling prickly and sticky, like he's about to burst at the seams.

a few minutes later (chansung entirely gives up on the gas connection, it can burst into flames for all he cares right now – they'll probably call a company first thing tomorrow when wooyoung wakes up taecyeon by throwing a bucket of cold water at him) there are mixed laughs coming from the general direction of the front door, the smell of cheese and pepperoni and tomato making chansung's mouth water. he washes his hands methodically – it takes him five minutes to get the tap running, dear god, hyunsuk  _ will hear about this _ – and then makes his way towards the diner, his heart stopping when he hears six – no, seven other heartbeats waiting for him.

taecyeon grins at him when chansung walks in, feeling lightheaded and punched. junho doesn't look any better.

"look who we found heading for pizza as well," wooyoung says through a mouthful of parmesan, onions and olives, "we brought him with us so he wouldn't get a stomachache from eating all alone."

"i wasn't gonna eat alone," junho says heatedly, and his cheeks are colored pink, and chansung is  _ so not _ ready for this.

"then why did you say nah, it's just me today –"

"do you keep track of everything i say –"

"maybe i do –"

"hey, can i get a slice of hawaiian – wooyoung, i'm talking to you –"

chansung watches the exchange (nichkhun steals all the hawaiian towards his side of the floor and chansung can't even fault him for it because he has no words), standing at the threshold and afraid to move or even breathe. wooyoung and junho are bantering like they did back then – back when wooyoung didn't have a set of claws and junho didn't carry spare arrows in his pockets – and it's terrifying and unsettling because chansung should know shit like this is going to happen before it happens – he's the alpha, god damn it.

"are you breathing?" fei asks quietly, startling him when she appears next to him out of seemingly nowhere since he hadn't seen her move.

he coughs discreetly (though by the smug tug of minjun's lips, he's probably not as smooth as he thinks he is). "yeah, i'm just. um, surprised? yeah, i mean –"

"you're not upset, though, are you?" fei asks, her tone careful, and chansung's breath leaves him in a rush when wooyoung steals a slice from junho and junho says, "you're lucky i didn't bring my bow," and wooyoung answers with,

"you're lucky the full moon is still two weeks away, fucker," while laughing and chewing at the same time – it should be gross, the grossest and most disgusting thing wooyoung has done so far in the last twenty minutes, but it's also ridiculously fond, from where chansung stands.

"no," he says, letting fei curl close as they head for the last two boxes of meat pizza that chansung will defend with claws and fangs. "no, i'm not upset. why would i be?"

they don't talk – junho and him – not even in private or anything, they eat and eat until they're about to burst and then lie on the floor while wooyoung and nichkhun tell junho about the towns they've been to, keeping the packs' details to themselves. junho nods and in return tells them all about how things have been in the last few years they've been gone – professor lee is the new headmistress of the high school they went to, and junho's been considering applying for the gym teacher position, but nothing's certain.

the wooden floor under them is warm with sunlight coming through the windows, and chansung lies there, with his head pillowed on wooyoung's lap, listening to minjun and taecyeon argue over who should take the trash out tonight and nichkhun and fei ganging up against them, claiming immunity since they did most of the cleanup while they were away.

chansung chuckles at this because all they did was hide the boxes in the closet under the stairs, but he knows better than to get into betas' discussions. he'll chime in when it gets nasty and bloody.

"why did you bring him?" he asks wooyoung quietly instead, looking up at him.

his face is soft with afternoon light, eyes warm and glassy. he huffs and flicks chansung's forehead before waving around vaguely. "bad shit happened. then good shit happened." when chansung doesn't look convinced, he shrugs half-heartedly, looking around the room just the way chansung is doing.

"he's pack," wooyoung says. "we're  _ home  _ and he's pack. no need to be a genius to put two and two together."

"should i remind you i'm a math genius?" chansung asks, and he's smiling. "i won several medals."

"well, you're shit at being a math genius, then," wooyoung says.

chansung just chuckles in reply.

-

("did you just – walk out?" chansung asks, his fingers picking at the inseam of his jeans, and it takes great physical effort for him to not just look up at junho, stare and stare and  _ stare  _ until he's one hundred percent this is  _ real  _ – him,  _ them _ .

junho is quiet for a while, and then he shakes his head. "they weren't just gonna let me go, you know. it's not – it doesn't work like that. i grew up around them, all of them. they knew me and i knew them and it was – it wasn't easy. but they'd – it was getting too far. jinwoon wasn't the only one they hurt, you know."

chansung steals a glance sideways, catches the bareness of junho's forearms, the skin pale but warm under the sun, catches faint scars, a larger one on the inside of his elbow. there's a patch of skin, though, a faint pearled bit of skin just above his watch, kind of circular and – chansung supposes that's what it'd look like if he could scar after pulling out an arrow shot from short distance.

"did they -" he starts, quiet.

"around the same time they took you." junho sighs, long and drawn-out. "i guess that's when they found out about us – everything."

chansung licks his lips, his heart thundering inside his chest. he looks up and finds junho staring back, sadness in his eyes, but otherwise as calm as ever. "what did you do? after the warehouse?"

junho's heartbeat slows down, the spark chansung can feel in his as well lit and flickering, cracking around them like burning wood, flames licking around everything – a fire just waiting to be let loose.

"they messed with the pack," junho says slowly, "i had to make a statement. not only to them but to every hunter out there. and – and not only them, i guess. me, too." he sounds tired, spent, and chansung gives up, reaches out a hand and takes junho's tightly in his.

"what did you  _ do _ ?"

"what do you think i did?" junho's fingertips are warm, his hand solid and real, and he draws the answer with his thumb over chansung's wrist. "i killed them all.")

-

chansung's life is full of  _ shouldn't _ s. he's far too gone to remember them all exactly right now but he's pretty sure he shouldn't be pressing his lips to the soft skin of junho's neck, or fitting his hands over junho's ribs while they slip into bed. it makes chansung wonder, though, why are the things he shouldn't be doing the ones that bring him joy and happiness.

it's probably the fucked-up way their worlds are supposed to work under.

chansung's done, though. done worrying, done fighting, done pretending everything is supposed to work in order for it to feel right. so he does the smartest thing – he says  _ fuck it all _ . fuck the rules, fuck the werewolves, fuck the hunters, fuck the code –  _ especially  _ the code – and kisses junho slow and gentle and sloppy for the first time in three years.

junho's fingers are warm on chansung's jaw, not pulling him closer or pushing him away, just holding him there, close, warm, safe. after a moment he draws away, though, his hair messed up by the pillows and chansung's hands. he fixes chansung with a careful look, but even if he tries to look calm and cool about this, his heart is echoing off the walls in chansung's room,  _ thumpthumpthumpthump _ .

"are you sure," he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

they're fully clothed, probably smelly since they've been fixing the staircase all day and then carrying mattresses all over the house after a whole two months of sleeping on the floor, but there's raw and naked wonder in junho's eyes, his whole body fragile looking on top of chansung's freshly bought sheets.

he nods, wrapping his fingers around junho's wrist, his thumb rubbing over the scar there. "are you?"

"i'm not sure about anything anymore," junho says, honest, his heart still loud and quick, unwavering.

"do you – i mean, do you still –"

"yes," junho says, nodding quickly, his cheek rubbing against the pillowcase, and he's smiling faintly, aiming for teasing but chansung knows better. "i think that's the only thing that hasn't changed so far. everything else just – is a wreck."

"like the aftermath of a catastrophe," chansung says.

junho swings his leg and kicks him in the knee. "don't pull your philosophical shit while we're in bed –"

"you love it," chansung says, rubbing at his leg. junho is grinning, white and blithe and open like he's never been, and chansung loves him, loves him so much it drives him insane.

"yeah," junho says, and he closes his eyes, smile (and pulse) never faltering. "i love it."

**_the end._ **


End file.
